Thursday, May 22, 2014

For two years Justine Hubbard has played the supportive wife role for her husband in public…and nowhere else. Senator Gary Hubbard's philandering ended her love for him. But sometimes there are reasons people decide to maintain the illusion of a happy marriage when the relationship is over.

Living a lie until after the election wasn't an issue—until she met Sean O'Donnell. She can't fool the perceptive photographer. He understands her. He wants her. After feeling invisible to her husband, that's an intoxicating discovery. But having condemned her husband for his hushed affairs, it would be hypocritical to give in to her desire for Sean.

All it would take is a whisper of scandal for her husband's political enemies to bring him down. She wouldn't dream of sacrificing Gary's career, their causes, and her own good name. But how can she stay away from Sean now that she's fallen for him?

Content Warning: contains sensual sex and mild language

~Excerpt~

The senator put his arm around his wife while she stood, frozen, her smile brittle on the edges. "Justine is a big patron of the arts. I'm glad she found someone interesting to talk to tonight. She hates these functions."

Sean smiled tightly, noting her discomfort. "She's not the only one."

"Yes, well…" The senator rubbed his hands together. "The sooner I get out of here, the sooner I can get home."

Sean felt the next perfunctory kiss was for his benefit. His heart went out to her.

"Don't wait up," the senator said to his wife.

One more insincere handshake with Sean and the man was gone.

She seemed to shrink, as if letting go of the tension took an inch off her height. "I think he forgot to call for my car."

"I'm just about to leave. Would you like to share a cab?"

The corner of her mouth twitched and she nodded, her lovely hazel eyes shining, though not a tear fell.

They ditched their glasses and headed to the atrium. Twice his hand strayed automatically toward the small of her back as they walked. He had to remind himself not to touch her.

Collecting their coats, he helped her into hers then slipped on his own, winding his slate gray scarf around his neck.

He didn't hesitate to offer his arm on the way out. Her high heels demanded it. Even though the sidewalk had clearly been shoveled once already, snow continued to fall, the scattered salt leaving circular patterns of melt amidst the slick. The doorman waved a cab forward and opened the door for them. Sean helped her into the back then slid in after her.

The doorman shut them in as Sean adjusted his long coat on the seat around him. "Let's drop you off first."

"All right." She leaned forward and gave the cabbie her address.

* * * *

Justine was hyper aware of O'Donnell's hand resting on the seat not eight inches from hers as they rode across the city. If they both stretched out a pinky, they might even touch. Beyond handshakes, she hadn't touched a man in so long. Gary no longer counted. He only touched her in public. After his second affair, she'd insisted.

Her life, her marriage, her husband—all of it was a sham.

Glancing surreptitiously at Sean O'Donnell as he watched the scenery pass, she was struck by how handsome he was, in a completely natural way. There was no hint of product in his hair to tame and control the wayward curls flaring out behind his ears. If anyone gave Gary's hair a little pat it would shift on his head like one solid, perfect helmet.

Even though it was faint, she could smell Old Spice coming off her quiet seatmate. It made her smile. Ah, memories. Back in the day, she used to love that aftershave. Gary only wore expensive cologne.

Sean cleaned up nicely, but she could tell he was as uncomfortable with the public side of his life as she was with hers. There was something genuine about him. After living with a facsimile of a human being for seven years, that was an attractive quality to have.

The cab turned onto her street and she began to worry the purse in her lap. Their ride had taken no time at all. They pulled to the curb in front of her townhouse and she started to open the clasp on her purse for her share of the fare. That's when Sean O'Donnell finally touched her bare hand, stopping her.

"It was on the way," he said.

"Thank you."

He exited the car then held the door, assisting her out. "I'll walk you up."

Afraid it would feel too much like the end of an awkward date, she declined his offer, though she appreciated his consideration. "That isn't necessary."

"Don't forget, the Russell Gallery. I hope to see you there, Mrs. Hubbard."

She liked how his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. "Sean."

"Thank you for the ride."

"My pleasure. Goodnight, Justine." He stood there, silent and seemingly unaffected by the large, fluffy snowflakes settling on his hair and shoulders.

"Goodnight, Sean." Feeling a blush coming on, she hurried up her front steps and slipped her key in the lock. He was still watching over her from the open car door when she turned on the light and stepped into the foyer. Lifting her hand, she gave him a final parting wave.

Nodding once in return, he dipped his head and got back into the taxi.

As the car pulled away, she fell against the door and turned the deadbolt, her heart racing in a thrilling and inappropriate way.

I write stories I like to read–contemporary romances with identifiable characters and themes. Life is hard. Love makes it bearable. If you enjoy stories with heat and humor, I have a title for you.I’m a pampered wife, lucky mom to three amazing sons and one wonderful daughter-in-law, and I recently became a very young grandma. I should probably underline the word very. Oh heck, why not the word young too? Nah, you get the picture. I’m also the daily monitor of one naughty dog with attitude.

Monday, May 19, 2014

Kumi Ito has her mission, as does Carmichael Snow, but are their objectives compatible?

Kumi Ito is a woman with a problem. Since assuming the role of head of the Commerce Department, she's found discrepancies…the kind that could cause anarchy if the truth got out.

When Carmichael Snow, the commander of the Emancipation, comes across intelligence that someone has placed a hit on Kumi, he has to save her. His plan? Hide her and find the assassin.

As they dodge the killer, a passion ignites between them that runs from simmering all the way to steamy. But will the actions of one snatch away their happiness before they can accept what is growing between them?

Content Warning: This book features a buff, hot guy and a kick-butt heroine. Naturally, hot scenes will follow.

~Excerpt~

The small craft Carmichael and Tomi traveled in approached an imposing tower, slowing and dropping to the plascrete surface with a slight bump before rolling to a stop in an empty bay. The doors opened and both men climbed out. The glass slider whooshed open and they moved at a pace somewhere between a stride and jog. The silence was welcome. After years onboard the Emancipation, Carmichael was used to the general hubbub of people. This was still and hushed. The peace before the storm.

A man approached, and Carmichael guessed he was maybe fifty. He's carefully preserved, he thought, noting the impeccable gray suit and discreet adornments. He wasn't tall, but his black hair sprinkled with silver was as immaculate as his clothing. In his uniform, Carmichael felt crumpled before the picture of sartorial elegance. No doubt this was the kind of man Kumi appreciated. He pulled himself up short. He wasn't there to further his relationship prospects. He had a job to do.

The man nodded, but his eyes narrowed. "She has requested privacy for your meeting."

Tomi moved through the doorway and Carmichael shadowed him. "Thank you, Dobry."

Carmichael filed the name away. Never know what will be the piece of information that will solve the puzzle.

Once inside, the door closed with an audible snick. Behind a large wooden desk overflowing with files was Kumi. As elegant as ever in a silver-gray suit. Kumi wasn't a tall or large woman, but with her golden toned skin and tip-tilted brown eyes she drew the eye. Her short, dark hair was worn in a bob that framed her pixie-shaped face.

She looked soft. Womanly. He also knew she had a spine of pure steel. He'd already seen it in action the night he'd

squired her at the commitment ceremony.

She smiled as she rose. "Well, Tomi. Whatever this is, it had better be good."

Carmichael noted her bare feet with a grin.

Kumi obviously noticed him and his quick glance. She came to a standstill, frowning before stepping in his direction, then stopped in front of him. Her gaze dipped to her feet and she blushed the most charming pink tinge along her high cheekbones. "Oh, dear. Do forgive me, Captain." She wiggled the toes which peeked out from under her long, flowing pants.

"There is nothing to forgive, Madam Kumi." He watched her fluid movements and admired her curves. She was sleek and lithe, and his body tightened at the thought of what lay under the light silk jacket.

With a jerky nod, Kumi made for her seat and slowly lowered herself. In a classic move, she folded her hands across the desk, her features now a serene veil of watchfulness. "So then, brother, what's so important that I had to see you immediately and not tonight?"

"It would seem you and your work have been noted by someone with a modicum of power among the Indy rebels. Captain Snow's men intercepted a communication. Kumi, you're making enemies."

Imogene is a mother of two, compulsive reader, and bookstore owner. She lives in regional Queensland, Australia with her husband, two daughters, dog, cats, guinea pigs, and chooks. She has a particular fondness for vampires, star ship captains, and things that go bump in the night (especially vampire types).

Imogene has tried many varied roles in her working life including kindergarten assistant, teacher, principal, and kindergarten and child care director, but rates owning a bookstore and writing her own novels as the absolute highlight.

In her mother and wife alter ego, she has travelled widely and lived in some very unique places including Far Western Queensland, Cape York, and even Tasmania. She loves to travel and rates China and Hong Kong among her favorite destinations.

She blames Star Trek Voyager, Firefly, and the works of Alexander Kent for her interest in naval activities and later space fleet interest.

Saturday, May 10, 2014

First I’ll tell you
a bit about the non-romance, then we’ll take a peek at the sexy heat of another
suspense thriller, and lastly part one of the three story fantasy world set.

A few months ago,
Midnight Frost Books, a new company in Western Canada, held a pitch session for
their non-romance line. It got me thinking about those old stories, and how
much fun they were to write. So, I pulled one out and had a look. The first one
out of the folder was Defector, so I submitted the pitch, and they liked it.
Enough to contract it once they’d read it. Edits went smooth, the cover is
bloody wonderful, and to my great shock, 12 hours after it was released this
week, it made the OmniLit/ARe best-seller shelf. As I write this, it is
currently sitting at #25 overall in that category–and I am sitting here in
absolute shock. But yes, I am also thrilled and smiling.

Andrew Dahle is a career spook, with no messy emotional ties to
complicate his life. He’s worked with the best, and despite himself, he’s about
to discover that he’s got friends he really didn’t know he wanted.

A straight-forward operation to grab a defector before he can leave the
country with a top secret project goes wildly awry, and forces Andrew to choose
between saving the life of a colleague’s son or nailing his target. To his
great surprise, he saves the young man’s life, and wakes up in a hospital.

Grateful, Richard MacAvoy, a retired agent with his own elite contacts
and players, steps in when Dahle is injured saving his son. Desperate to
complete his mission, Andrew reluctantly accepts the help MacAvoy offers, and
in the process just might learn that alone isn’t always the best way to work,
and friends might be worth the vulnerability he’s always shunned.

Adam Walker is one of the Company’s best field agents, a highly trained,
well-honed killing machine when that’s what’s needed. But, he’s also a man of
many secrets, and one of them is that he’s a ninja, one of Japan’s mythical
death warriors. When another of Adam’s secrets, his lover Kiku, is killed, he
turns to the one person he trusts, fellow agent Shainna Barton. While Shainna
covers for him on a mission, Adam metes out his revenge, and discovers that his
friendship with Shainna has a much deeper meaning that either of them ever
realized…

Book One of Three: During the time
before the Great Forbidding was created, it was believed the defiance of the
Renegades could be contained. To that end, the Council of Power called upon
their Ancient Gods for assistance. In response, the Gods ordered creation of
the Triad of Power–three swords, each one imbued with the essence of a gift
unique to those who would wield the weapons as the Guardians of Foress. Like
all magic, each crafted blade contained the driving sorcery of its creator–not
all wizards are immune to the weaknesses of men, and within the Triad, conflict
itself was bred without conscious intent or knowledge. So begins the legend,
and the epic fantasy of the TRIAD OF POWER.

The LEGEND

During the
time before the Great Forbidding was created, it was believed the defiance of
the Renegades could be contained. To that end, the Council of Power called upon
their Ancient Gods for assistance. In response, the Gods ordered creation of
the Triad of Power–three swords, each one imbued with the essence of a gift
unique to those who would wield the weapons as the Guardians of Foress. Like
all magic, each crafted blade contained the driving sorcery of its creator–not
all wizards are immune to the weaknesses of men, and within the Triad, conflict
itself was bred without conscious intent or knowledge.

With the
acumen of the Gods in their possession, the Council of Power assembled. Weapons
were entrusted to the warriors who had been chosen to serve them. The most
powerful of the wizards, a son of Karman, God of Foresight, was the creator of Diviner—this
was the sword that guided the spell-masters who created the Forbidding, and is
perhaps the most formidable of the Triad. The second weapon was Huntor,
imbued with the fierce fury of the Goddess of War and the Forest God, M’Har.
The hand that controls this blade is one of the cold, calculated warrior. The
final component in the set was Predator. Given the power of its creator,
a master wizard devoted to Shadin, God of Deceptions, this sword was and
remains the most unpredictable of the grouping. In the wrong hands, it can be
traitorous, for it seeks an opportunity to corrupt its owner, and only a man of
true honor can wield the blade and retain his humanity and integrity.

For eons,
the Forbidding has held back the evil that once threatened to destroy Foress,
but the last of the Gods to dwell in the earthly realm, has been given a dream.
M’Har had been warned, a weakening exists within the magical prison. The time
has come to re-unite the Triad, and recharge the sorcery that holds the world
in balance. To this end, he has entrusted his daughter, Sherindal, to find the
last of Karman’s bloodline, and the sword Diviner. Predator
resides already in the proper hands–those of Prince Rienn of Ember City–who
also carries the blood of Gods in his veins though he does not know it.

The
bloodlines have grown weak over the ages, and magic has become myth. Yet,
within a special few, the courage and strength to revive the old sorcery still
exists, if they are able to control the past to forge the future.

Thursday, May 8, 2014

In a country stuck
in the dark ages is a world filled with sex and scandal. Governed by royalty,
those in power have many deep-rooted secrets that span generations.

Prince Anton’s sordid
past has forged his future. He finds his only pleasure from being a sadist, but
he knows he must continue the royal bloodline and create an heir for his
country. Forced by responsibility, he turns to the one man who can give him the
best of both worlds. But will Prince Anton find what he’s searching for?

Damian is the ruler of
The Dungeon. He is the Teacher, and the only man Prince Anton can trust to
provide him with what he needs. He is on a mission to find a virgin submissive
to become the prince’s life partner. What happens when the Teacher falls for
the woman he’s been ordered to train?

As lust and love spiral
out of control, Prince Anton and Damian find their lives change unexpectedly
because of one independent and defiant woman.

~Excerpt~

Damian was going over
the alcohol shipment that had arrived this morning. One of the reasons his sex
clubs were so popular was because of the liquor he had shipped in from the
mainland. It was expensive, but the quality was much greater than anything produced
on Colania. Currently though, it was giving him a headache. He was
missing a case of the high-end scotch he kept on hand.

Prince Anton strutted
into his office without warning.

“Don’t you knock?”
Damian said scathingly.

“Didn’t know I needed
to,” Prince Anton replied.

“With all due respect,
sire,” Damian said sarcastically, “this is my office in my club. Next time,
knock.” Damian rose to his feet, his body fluid like a great jungle cat, before
he went to embrace his prince. “Now, what the hell is so important you had to
schedule an appointment?”

“I have a job for you,”
Prince Anton told him. He returned the one-arm embrace stiffly and then moved
away with haste. He was uncomfortable with physical contact that he didn’t
initiate or control. When the two men sat, he elaborated. “My thirtieth
birthday is approaching.”

“In a year and a half.”
Damian snorted. “Do you think it wise to skip twenty-nine?”

“As the last of the
monarchy, it is my job to reproduce,” Prince Anton continued. “As much as I
would like to see the genes that have shaped me die out, the country would fall
into a tailspin. Although we are remote and somewhat undeveloped, we are a rich
nation. The power I hold is all that keeps us out of the eye of the world and
off the radar for those who would oppress us.”

“What does this have to
do with me?” Damian asked warily.

“I have no desire to
repeat history,” Prince Anton said. “We both know that my sexual nature is more
like that of the queen than my father.”

“Do you want me to train
you?” Damian asked, confused. “To help you learn to control your appetite?”

“No,” Prince Anton said
firmly. “I don’t think either of us could handle taking our relationship to
that level.”

The two men had grown up
together, which accounted for Damian’s lack of respect and boundaries, but
Prince Anton wanted to maintain formality between them.

“You could be right,”
Damian said with a light chuckle. “So, what do you want from me?”

“I want you to find her,
the woman who will bear the future of the country,” Prince Anton said. “Find
her and train her to be what I need.”

“You can’t just order up
a woman on demand,” Damian told him with a raised eyebrow.

“You must find a woman
with good genetics although Gilly can look into that after the candidate meets
the other criteria,” the prince said, ignoring Damian. “Beautiful, obviously.
I’m not particular with features, but it stands to reason if my life mate is
attractive, then I will have a better chance with reproduction. I’d also prefer
that she not have a single drop of royal blood regardless of past royal
practices. I do not wish to produce monsters or further any imperfections
through inbreeding, however distant the connection might be. She needs to be
completely submissive. I will be in control of any encounters at all times.
Whoever she is, she must be willing to leave her past life behind. I refuse to
be burdened with in-laws who might not agree with my domination of their
daughter.”

“That’s quite a shopping
list,” Damian said, eyeing the prince harshly. “Anything else you’d like to add
before I order a woman for you?”

“There is one more
requirement,” Prince Anton said seriously. “And this is perhaps the most
important of all. She must be a virgin.”

“You do realize when I
train a woman to cede her control to her master that I have sex with her?”
Damian asked incredulously. “Submissives have to learn to respond on command;
an untried woman will not have that opportunity.”

“I will not have a woman
who has felt a man between her thighs before me. I will not have my children
born to a woman who will behave as my mother did. She must be pure!” Prince
Anton roared.

“If I refuse to do
this…” Damian didn’t finish the question.

“You will not refuse,”
Prince Anton said, rising to his feet. “I expect you at the castle within the
week. The search begins immediately.”

Diana Ames was born and
raised in Central Pennsylvania. She lives with her husband, two children, and a
variety of crazy pets. Balancing work, wife and mom duties, and writing has
been the best and most rewarding challenge of her life. The publication of this
novel is the culmination of a lifetime of dreams.

Thursday, May 1, 2014

When her lover, Martin
Fowler is called away to Washington and she can't go with him, Daniella LeBeaux
is restless and edgy. Martin's older, worldly, and has a reputation that would
make most women think twice about trusting him. Dani loves him, and trust is not
what's making her anxious and edgy - lust and loneliness are combining with a
little too much to drink. When the phone rings, and it's Martin, delayed again,
he teaches her a new way to make love long-distance style.... but who's watching
Dani? And is Martin really ready for the revenge his actions
incite?

Excerpt:

An hour
after her father had gone home, Martin called. He was, in fact, on his way back
to New York. Despite the fact that she had an early call for rehearsals the next
day, Daniella chose to wait up for him. It was approaching 2 AM now and he still
wasn’t home. She glanced at the clock. Less than ten minutes had passed since
her last check.

She had stopped drinking after
her father had gone, taken a shower, and now she was sitting in the apartment
with only candlelight and soft music for company. She smiled, unable to subdue
the flutter of excitement in her stomach when she thought about seeing him walk
into the apartment. She went to the window, staring at the street as if she
could will the scarlet-colored Corvette to appear.

Her father’s visit, and the
revelations he’d shared played through her mind again. It explained why Andrew
had taken Martin on as a partner in the private investigations firm that was
doing extremely well due to the talented men who ran it. To his credit, Martin
had tried to dissuade Daniella’s interest in him, especially given her age.
She’d been seventeen when they’d met, and her father’s disapproval of her
infatuation with Martin had been vehement. Persuading either of them that her
teenage crush was actually soul-deep love and adoration hadn’t been easy. By the
time she was twenty-one, Martin had been convinced; it had taken more months
than she cared to recall to make her father understand and accept it. But, it
had finally happened, and she was happier than she’d ever been in her life. Most
of the time.

The glitter of soft, dancing
light from the flickering candle-flames sparkled on cut crystal and drew her
gaze to the bar. She decided to have another drink, even knowing it was likely
to be a bad idea come morning. She poured a healthy dose of the scotch Martin
preferred, and then tried to settle into an armchair. She closed her eyes and
let her head fall back against the plush cushion in an attempt to
relax.

A single mouthful of the drink
reminded her of the way it tasted on Martin’s lips. She let that image settle in
her mind, smiling at the shiver that rippled through her. Martin was a stunning
man, and she never tired of looking at him, or listening to him, or being in the
same room with him.

He was tall, with dark brown
hair, and equally dark eyes that dominated a strikingly contoured face. At
forty, he was scarred emotionally and physically, but he was beauty incarnate to
the woman who loved him. The image of his lean, muscular limbs, and her frequent
cataloging of every gorgeous inch of him, made her tremble with
longing.

She tossed back the remainder
of her Scotch and slouched deeper into the chair erotic memories led her
thoughts. The warmth of the liquor coursed through her, creating a flush on her
skin that she knew would be visible had Martin been there to see it. She let
herself be carried along on the alcohol-edged wave, and felt an undeniable rush
of hungry desire when she thought about having Martin beside her in bed. The
nights had been the hardest part of the separation—she’d been going to bed later
and later over the past week in order to spend as few hours as possible sleeping
alone.

She was still finding it
difficult to believe just how much she missed him. The apartment was eerily
quiet in the morning, and equally so when she came home. The evenings started
driving her crazy within a few days. She was always wound up after the extended
rehearsals, but that excess energy generally found an outlet in Martin’s
arms.

Daniella abruptly cut off that train of thought by getting up to
fix another drink, this time making it considerably larger than the previous
one. A slow stroll back to the window revealed only darkness and an empty street
below. It had rained earlier, and the scattered puddles created sporadic mirrors
and reflected back the glare of streetlights and passing car headlights. An
absent glance at her watch didn’t offer her any reassurance—he was nearly an
hour late now. She forced down the threat of panic that wanted to blossom into a
full-fledged fear and told herself that he was all right. His identity was
protected and all precautions had been taken to ensure his safety. With her
father in charge of that, she had no doubts at all about the quality of the
security surrounding Fowler at all times.

Uncomfortable at the window,
Daniella spun on her heel and dropped into the armchair again. About halfway to
the bottom of this drink, memory steered her thoughts inexorably back to the
bedroom she shared with Martin. The tension knotting her muscles was as much
sexual as it was concern for his unexplained lateness, and the sudden ache
between her thighs was more than enough to awaken her entire body with
anticipation. Another gulp and the second Scotch was gone.

Daniella was beginning to feel
a bit more relaxed again now that alcohol was dulling her perception but there
was still an edge of panic lingering within her. She couldn’t help wondering if
something had happened to Martin; he was never hours late without calling—a
habit he was slowly drilling into Daniella as well. She looked at the glass in
her hand, debating whether to refill it a third time. It was now almost three
o’clock, and she decided to have the drink then go to bed—alone. She couldn’t
suppress the flare of anger that shot through her at the prospect of another
night in the huge bed without Martin. In her heart, she knew nothing serious had
delayed him, which meant he simply hadn’t bothered to call.

Twenty minutes and a third
drink later; Daniella was staring at the empty glass again. Her head felt
pleasantly fuzzy.